


Wasted

by thegaygladers



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Again, M/M, Neighbor au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8168524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegaygladers/pseuds/thegaygladers
Summary: anonymous asked:Can I request a headcanon about your otp moving in next door to each other, and person A has a moving in party, causing person B to knock on the door and ask to turn the music down (person A falls completely in love)





	

**Author's Note:**

> why can't i write short things?!?!?!? also i wrote this at like 2 a.m. so please excuse the typos???

 Thomas Edison would never tell anyone, but he actually thoroughly _despised_  parties.

He was alone in this struggle of his, however – Minho loved them, Fry loved them, Brenda and Teresa loved them. Hell, even Gally seemed to not entirely hate them, and because Thomas had enough money to allow the next five generations of his family to live in luxury without having to work a single day, he always had to host.

He didn’t mind doing the paying, obviously – Minho’s cosmic delight and talent in discology made every single penny worth it – it was all the obligatory socialization that he so thoroughly avoided.

If he’d told anyone that, they’d have been astonished, to say the least. Thomas was popular and well-liked, as any white, athletic, attractive guy would be. He was not as popular as Minho, unquestionably, but he _was_  nevertheless and people always expected him to enjoy all the attention and be an asswipe in general – something he just could not bring himself to do.

Every once in a while, though, he would find a wonderful, clever girl and they’d make small intellectual talk and hit it off, by the end of the night he'd have slept with her and then they’d carry on being friends. It was always like that, he never dated. Not because he didn’t want to – third-wheeling the lovesick Minho and Gally always, as he did, would bore the shit out of even the mightiest – but because no one thought he was dating material. No one thought of him as interesting or challenging enough.

That was literally it.

He was the only single guy in his campus for the sole reason that he was too _nice_.

He despised parties, and rightfully so, he thought.

When he felt the sudden, unsteadying weight on his back, he very nearly fell on top of an intimidating girl with bright blue hair and blood red lipstick in front of him.

“Tommyyyyyyyyy……… you look so cute today,” Gally breathed drunkenly in his ear, giggling, while the girl threw at them an extensive string of curses. Thomas jolted, turning in the blond’s arms and then rolling his eyes affectionately at the mess that stood embracing him sloppily.

Sober Gally wouldn’t ever even _think_ of doing such a thing.

Gally, disorientated by their new arrangement, sunk against Thomas completely, his head now hanging off the back of Thomas’s shoulder.

“Jeez, Thomas, I leave for one second and already you’ve got your hands all over my boyfriend,” Minho joined them, regarding the pair with amusement and mock-disapproval and just the tiniest hint of jealousy.

“Why are you so cooooold..??” Gally asked in a scratchy childish voice, snickering against Thomas’s back as if he’d just said the funniest thing in the world. His breath reeked nauseatingly of all the alcohol he’d somehow managed to consume in the timespan of two hours, “Let me warm you…”

Minho’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“Give me back my boyfriend, Thomas,” he chuckled, but Thomas expertly caught the hidden solemnity in his tone, “Go find your own.”

Thomas rolled his eyes so as if to say “ _I don’t want him. He’s all yours_.”

“God, I wish,” Thomas said with actual voice, handing Gally obediently and carefully back to his best friend, who seemed unfazed by the new weight on him. Like maybe he was used to it.

When Minho looked at him questioningly, Thomas shrugged.

“Hey, I’m always open to anyone who wants to take me,” Thomas said, and then clarified dramatically, “ _Almost_ anyone, anyway.”

“Looks like the opportunity is right at your door, then,” Minho smirked.

“Minho, honestly, man, quit trying to be-”

“-no, dude, shut up. There is literally an opportunity – sorry, _person_ – at your door. Turn around.”

“Oh-”

“Have fun,” Minho grinned, before vanishing again into the herd of twirling youths behind him.

“Oh,” Thomas said again, before hurrying to the door because there was, in fact, someone standing there, looking around awkwardly.

“WOAH,” Thomas exhaled before he could stop himself.

It was a god.

The god smiled embarrassedly, blushing and running his hands through his hair.

Thomas chanced another glance, and the smile he found made his heart explode into a thousand slivers of warmth; his pulse seemed to have quickened markedly but he felt unnaturally at peace.

“Um, well, hello there,” the god said, shouting a little over the deafening music, “Sorry for, uh… interrupting.”

Thomas turned momentarily soundless, and it was impossible to tell whether it was because he couldn’t properly hear the god – the _boy_ – over the music or because he felt overwhelmed with all the bizarre ways his body seemed to reacting _to_ him.

When the boy looked like he was about to combust in discomfort, though, Thomas decided he had to snap to his senses.

“Oh, sorry, um, what?” Thomas shouted back, concurrently waving his hands in a stupid attempt to somehow make his words more intelligible.

The boy appeared to repeat himself, relieved he was finally being answered to, but Thomas still couldn’t hear.

Thomas shook his head, and “MINHO! TURN IT DOWN!” he yelled behind his back and into the party.

Now no one seemed to hear _him_.

Thomas smiled apologetically at the boy hovering self-consciously at his doorstep and biting his lip, and again, took him in.

The boy was breathtaking; he looked as if he’d walked straight down Mount Olympus - with his shining golden hair and eyes a slightly darker shade of the same color, skin the white of pearls; his veins sticking out outstandingly from the bare skin under the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, proving that he was tough despite his slender form.

It was only justified for Thomas’s body to have reacted the way it had.

“ _Do you wanna come inside_?” Thomas attempted gesturing again.

The stunning boy cocked his head to the side, seemingly trying to comprehend the meaning of Thomas’s moronic gesticulations, and Thomas gave up trying to do it the complicated way. Now he just enacted "sleeping" and pointed behind them.

The boy smirked.

“ _Already_?” he mouthed.

Thomas shook his head, beaming and red-faced. Then, he went on to grab the stranger’s hand and drag him through the revelry and into his bedroom before the boy had a chance to counter.

It _was_  a great deal quieter here, though.                                                                                          

“ _So_ ,” Thomas said, only the slightest quiver in his voice - he was trying hard not to think about how he had a divinity with him in his bedroom at midnight, “I don’t remember inviting you-”

“- I literally just-”

“… NOT that I mind, of course. You look civil enough, I’m sure you can stay.”

“I just wanted to ask if you’d be willing to turn your music down a bit because I was trying to work on an assignment that is boring the shit out of me as it is and that beat was doing my head in and I already had a migraine,” the boy said, all in one breath so Thomas would not be able to interrupt again.

“Oh,” was all Thomas said, trying uselessly to hide his disappointment disappointment, “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” the boy smiled.

“Um... Yeah, sure, I guess. Sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll look for my friend. He’s the DJ,” Thomas added the last part maybe a little proudly.

“Is he? Is this party his, then?”

“Nah, mine. I just moved in. It’s my moving in party.”

“You must be one rich bastard, then,” the boy dug his hands in his pockets, it was clearly a characteristic gesture, “Newt.”

“That’s not – what?”

Thomas was starting to feel a little light-headed, though he couldn’t remember drinking or taking anything.

Maybe he’d had a shot and forgotten. Or two. Or five.

He didn’t remember.

“Newt. That’s my name. I mean, technically it’s Isaac Newton, but I just go by Newt.”

“As in… _Isaac Newton_ Isaac Newton?”

“Yep. The gravity dude. He was my dad’s hero,” Newt rolled his eyes, smiling to himself as if at a reminiscence.

“Yourdasasciensits?”

“ _Was_ a scientist. Both of my parents are dead.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know why that matters, though. Who are you?”

“Thomas.”

“Ooooooh. As in Thomas Jefferson?”

“No, Thomas Edison, My parents were both…  sci-scien-scien… sciensits  too. Maaaaad ones. Yes, and they’re both dead too.”

“I…”

“This is… getting… getting a bit… dark.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll go talk to… my friend…?”

“You do that,” Newt said, frowning. Then, deciding Thomas didn’t sound sober enough, rectified, “Or… maybe not.”

“Um… you can still join the… the paaaa,” a yawn, “rty,” Thomas couldn’t fathom why Newt had so unexpectedly changed his mind, but didn’t want to leave, either.

Newt smiled another one of those smiles, and Thomas’s heart soared.

That was ridiculous. A smile should _not_ have been able to do that.

“Nah, that’s fine,” Newt shrugged.

“No, I mean, I want yo- I mean. You know. I’m inviting you. Don’t feel like you’re… still uninvited, or something. Because you’re not. I mean, you are. Invited. You are invited. If that’s what-”

“Relax, Tommy,” Newt whispered, and Thomas felt a sharp hollowing in his gut as something ignited under his skin.

An important piece seemed to fall into place in the puzzle that had always been his head.

This was what he’d been missing all this time, with all those girls.              

He’d obviously been called Tommy before, countless of times by countless people - but when Newt said it, it was… different. It felt like it was _right_ , somehow.

Like Newt was really the only person who was _meant_ to call him that.

Like he’d just stumbled upon something he’d been looking for his entire life without realizing it.

“Please tell me we’re not doing this again,” Newt shook his head, lips curled and face glowing with an unexplainable bliss.

That mouth.

That mouth brought Thomas back to Earth.

“..h-uh?” he asked slowly, voice jagged as if he’d been asleep for centuries. On reflection, Isaac did seem much like a dream. “What?”

“You. Staring at me like you’ve never seen me before. I mean, yeah, you haven’t, but like. Like now that you have, you don’t want to stop. Or something. It’s creeping me out a bit, buddy.”

“I _don’t_ want to stop,” Thomas breathed. That was it, he’d lost his mind.

Newt was on him in a second.

“Um, Thomas? How high are you?” Newt asked, grabbing Thomas’s face and looking into his eyes as if trying to measure the highness himself. “Have I been wasting all this time talking to an utterly stoned person? You probably won’t even remember me tomorrow.”

“I’mnt … high. Haven’ had nuffink since daybreak, even.”

“Oh. Um. So you _will_ remember me tomorrow morning?”

“Vividly.”

Newt’s face turned entirely scarlet at this drugged-up confession, and he looked away, seeming, for the first time, even remotely affected by Thomas.

“Newtieee. Your hands. On m’face,” Thomas beamed sleepily, elatedly, maybe he _had_ had something after all. Where was all this courage coming from? “They’re still on m’face.”

“Oh,” Newt exclaimed quietly, quickly withdrawing them before Thomas caught and held them, softly intertwined with his own - a pair of two tightly clasped hands now swayed at each side of Newt’s hip.

“I… you’re pretty,” Thomas admitted, and for the first time in his life, said, “Don’t go. Don’t leave me here. I hate parties.”

“I’m no fan of them, either, Thomas,” Newt spoke softly, gently detaching himself from Thomas’s body - looking almost regretful afterwards. “Are you  _sure_ you aren’t high? Maybe you should get some sleep. I’ll come to check on you tomorrow, and then perhaps we can properly introduce ourselves.”

“Why?”

“Sorry?”

“ _Why_ would you wanna come tomorrow? I hav'n’t bin very hospi- hospit'ble during your first visit...”

“Because you’re mesmerizing. And I really shouldn’t have said that. And I really hope you don’t _remember_ I said that,” Newt shuffled awkwardly on his feet, Thomas was still standing with his hands reaching to hold something that wasn’t there anymore, “Because we’re neighbors. Hmm. You can remember that one.”

“I’ll remember both.”

“Thomas…” Newt shook his head, “Who’s your friend? Maybe I should get him, he’ll put you to bed.”

“No, no, I can do it,” Thomas insisted, moving towards his giant and rather "unmanly" bed as he did so, and tripping just a little before tumbling exhaustedly on top of it, “See?”

“I still need to talk to your friend, though,” Newt said, “The music. Loud. Remember? That’s what I was here for to begin with?”

“Oh, right. Oh, um… Minoe, I think his... name is. He has a boy... boyfr'nd.”

“You don’t even remember your best friend’s name, and think I’ll make a move on him after what I just said to you. You’re baked as a cake, man.”

“I love cake.”

“Me, too.”

“I also love Minoe.”

“Um… me too?”

“No. I saw you first, so you only get to love me,” Thomas pouted endearingly.

“That’s not too bad,” Newt said, “Sleep, Tommy. I’ll be back. Then you can look at me all you want.”

Newt blushed again at the memory, quietly, and was almost out the door when Thomas called out to him.

“Mmm, Newt?”

“Yeah?”

“You really _are_ pretty.”

“Thanks, Thomas,” Newt laughed, aware of how much a sober guy Thomas’s age would regret saying that the morning after. He wasn’t too sure about Thomas regretting it, though, because Thomas was different and  _interesting_ and _challenging_.

“And ’m'nt high.”

“Goodnight, Thomas.”

And then Newt was gone and Thomas thankfully let his eyes fall shut in exhaustion, mingled with contentment and downright exultation.

That night, Thomas dreamt of an angel with gold for hair and honey for eyes and a devilish smile that set fire to and soothed every nerve in his body.

 


End file.
